Sick Girl
by Yitz
Summary: A young woman suffering from depression reflects on her life in Amity. (One-shot)


_The world is sweet, and it is full of beauty, and all the good in my fellow humans sustains me._

I say the words to myself once more, and hope they will bring me peace. They do not come from my faction's manifesto, but a prayer of sorts that has been passed down through my family. We are Amity; we always have been. There have been few transfers from my lineage, a fact my parents are most proud of.

"Amity is the cradle of happiness," as my father likes to say.

And I have tried to be happy here. I walk along the dirt roads in my flame-colored clothing; I breathe in the fresh air; I water blossoming plants. These things were given to me like a gift, given to all of us who live on this compound. I am privileged, I am fortunate. I am not forced to expose myself to danger, like the Dauntless; I am not forced to give up all that is mine, like the Abnegation; I am not forced to compete with my brothers and sisters in assessment, like the Erudite; I am not forced to sacrifice kindness in the name of honesty, like the Candor. I am joy, I am freedom, I am Amity.

If only I believed it, though. I have searched every tree and have not found the happiness that is supposed to be in abundance here. And I have seen great beauty, too: the first flowers breaking through the barrier of winter and babies growing up to join the world. What has ever moved me or impressed me? There is nothing. My heart is empty, and it distorts everything – the trees become bushes of thorns, the flowers turn to thistle, and as I watch those around me age, I find myself wondering how I could be more like them.

Last night I dreamed in black and white. Everything was monochromatic: the sky, the flowers, the people. Nothing scary happened, but when I woke up there were tears in my eyes and I was sweating. I slid out of my bed and stood up, floating like a ghost into the bathroom attached to my bedroom. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I am unmoved. I do not look like I was raised in Amity; my skin is the color of typing paper, hair like dead wheat, eyes like swamp water. But I wear bright clothes to offset the dullness, so perhaps that is good enough.

I find myself unable to fall back asleep, so I decide to walk outside. Somehow the world seems more beautiful to me now, even with the muted colors and silence. For a moment I think of my upcoming aptitude test and try to decide whether or not to be worried. I cannot guess at what it will tell me. Do I have some gift hidden in my mind, yet unknown to me? I laugh out loud at that, and it feels like the first time in years.

"Who's there?" someone asks.

I look around, embarrassed. "It's just me," I say softly. "Where are you?"

"Come over here, by the light."

My addresser must be referring to the light hung from the big oak tree, which is a couple of yards away. Peering over, I can see the shadow someone standing beneath it, so I make my way over there. I arrive to see another girl my age, though completely unlike me in appearance: her skin is freckled and glowing from exposure to the sun, and her red hair shines. "Hi," she says. "Sorry, did I scare you?"

"No. Did I scare you?"

"No." She tucks some hair behind her ear and grins. "I've seen you around before, but I don't think we've ever talked."

I try to smile back, but somehow it hurts. "You're right. What's your name?"

"It's Chloe. What's yours?"

"Ann."

"So, Ann, why are you awake now?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Me either," Chloe says. "I've been so nervous for the aptitude test. Have you?"

"Nervous... no. More confused, I guess."

Chloe raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Confused about what?"

"I don't know. Sometimes I just..." I look up at the moon. "I sometimes feel like I don't belong anywhere."

"You don't think you belong here? With your family?"

I guess I could see myself staying in Amity. Working the land, planting seeds, watching them grow into beautiful fruit-bearing bushes and trees. Seeing my parents getting older and passing on. I am their only child; will I get married, have children and continue the family line? Would my children be happy, healthy people who adored Amity? Or would I pass on this sickness of sadness to them? There is no way to know. "I don't know," I tell her. "Maybe." I decide to try to shift attention off of me. "What about you? You said you were nervous."

Chloe looks down at her shoes. They look handmade from yellow fabric. "I want to stay in Amity," she says. "But I'm afraid my test results will say something else."

I shrug. "It doesn't matter what the results are. If you want to be here, you can stay. We all have that choice, you know?"

"Yeah."

I look at Chloe then, and feel I can see all her future: her test result will be Amity. She will choose it at the ceremony and stay with her parents. She will find a nice boy and marry him, and they'll live out their lives here. I see Chloe like a mirror, like who I could've been. I make myself smile at her. "I think you'll do well."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why wouldn't you want to stay in Amity?"

I feel my smile subside. It is a strange question. "I'm..." I try to think of what to tell her.

Chloe frowns, perplexed. "What is it?"

"I don't know how to... be happy," I finally blurt out.

She still looks confused. "All of what we have here – the trees, the flowers, the fruit, the sunshine; none of it makes you happy?" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry. I don't want to accuse you of anything." Chloe appears deep in thought for a moment, then she says, "My older brother left here, you know."

"He transferred?"

She shakes her head. "He just left... everything. Society."

I frown. "He's..."

"Factionless, yes."

I can hardly comprehend this. Why would anyone choose to be factionless? To dress in rags and not know where your next meal is coming from? As much as I can pity them, they also frighten me – these are the people who have failed to fit in anywhere, the way I feel. And I'm terrified that I will end up among them. Sure, I've survived in Amity for all these years, but after I become an adult, the expectations upon me will grow. During initiation, the leaders will see through me. The outer layer of happiness I try so badly to project will wear away.

Suddenly I realize how self-absorbed I am being. This girl in front of me has lost her brother, and all I can think of is myself? "I'm sorry," I tell her honestly. "That isn't something I'd wish on anyone. But do you know why he did it?"

"It's strange, isn't it? I bet my parents would take him back, but I don't think it'd be allowed. And I don't believe he even wants to come back. It's been so long." She sighs. "But that makes it easier, you know? It would've been like this if he'd transferred to another faction, too, I guess." Chloe looks at me again. "Do you think you're going to transfer?"

"I've thought about it."

We're both silent for a moment, breathing in the warm night air. "What did you mean when you say you don't know how to be happy?" Chloe asks, finally.

"I don't know. There's something in my mind. It's like... it's like a black ink. It covers everything that should make me happy and just turns it dark."

"And after that?"

"A lot of darkness."

Chloe tilts her head to the side. "Are you ill?" she asks. Her expression is sympathetic, not judgmental.

I play with the hem of my blouse. "I don't know. Is there such a thing?"

"I think so. If your body can get sick, why not your mind?" She taps her chin. "Maybe you should see the Erudite. I bet they'd be interested."

"They'd treat me like a science experiment."

"What if it's your only chance, though?" Chloe smiles and touches my shoulder. "I think a better life is possible for you," she says. Then she bows her head and walks off.

When I return to my bed, I think of Chloe's brother, living with the factionless. Why would he choose that path? Couldn't he have found some way to make it one of the factions? Surely that's a better life than having no home and always lacking in food. She said that he chose to leave, but how? Did he run away from home the night before the Choosing Ceremony? But _why_? Perhaps he was a Divergent. Are they even real, though? When I finally fall asleep, my slumber is feverish as my mind struggles with restless thoughts and questions too big for me to answer.

* * *

><p>A week later, I walk between my parents as we make our way to the Erudite headquarters. For once, they do not seem happy. I don't know why, but something in me compelled me to follow Chloe's advice and ask my parents to arrange the appointment for me. They have known about my struggles, but have never really addressed it. I cannot say we have ever been particularly close, but I am thankful for them for doing this small thing for me.<p>

I am nervous, though. What if they tell me I'm _really_ unwell, that there's something wrong with my brain and I have little time left to live? A tiny voice in my mind begs me to turn around, to tell my parents that I've changed my mind. But I make myself push the voice back. I push it back, and I force myself to walk ahead.

As we enter the building, people notice us but say nothing. Maybe they have no idea what we're doing here, or perhaps some people have heard of me. The sick girl is coming today.

We go up an elevator and come out on the tenth floor, the highest one in this building. We walk out into some sort of reception room, with a big circular desk and doors on either side. One says "Staff," and the other is bare. The man at the desk must be the assistant of whoever I'm going to see, I figure. He appears exactly the way I imagine the Erudite: stern expression, spectacles, predominantly blue outfit. Unlike the soft, loose garments that we wear in Amity, the popular clothes here are tight and structured. They don't look comfortable to me, but they do have a "professional" aspect to them, which I suppose is exactly what the Erudite are aiming for.

"Hello," my mother says uneasily. "We're here to see Jeanine."

My eyes widen. I'm seeing the head of Erudite? Why is she interested in me? Certainly she has better things to do. I very nearly interject, but I realize it's far too late.

The man looks up at us for about one second before glancing back at the computer on the desk and typing something. "OK," he says. "Ann, you go in by yourself first. Your parents will come in a little later."

_What?_ Me and Jeanine Matthews, alone? I don't want to go, I don't want to go, I don't want to go. But, like a robot, I sense myself walking through the door and following the assistant down the hall. The overwhelming anxiety I feel now is a strange departure from the usual sluggish melancholy, but it's merely an alternative form of discomfort. I'm led into a room with a large padded chair, a computer, and several pieces of electronic equipment I'm not familiar with. Looking around, I feel incredibly thankful that there is a window here. Being able to see the sky and tress in the distance really helps to calm me – maybe I belong in Amity after all.

"Take a seat," the man says. I follow the instruction. "Jeanine will be here in a minute. Please don't touch anything." He looks at me and gives me a light smile, a little break from the businesslike demeanor of the Erudite. "You don't need to worry," he tells me. Then he walks away, closing the door behind him.

Sitting in this chair, I feel as if I weigh a thousand pounds. What's going to happen to me here? _Mom and Dad are just outside_, I tell myself. _They're here to protect you._

It's not long before Jeanine walks in, carrying a clipboard like a baby. "Ann is such a pretty name," she says without any introduction. "It doesn't sound particularly Amity, though. Typically I associate your faction with longer names. I thought, initially, that it might be short for something – Annabelle or Annalisa, or something – but no. I was told it's just Ann. Simple and to the point. But that can be nice sometimes."

"I'm—" I start to say.

Jeanine turns to face me. "I know why you're here. I know a lot about you, Ann."

Is that a good thing? "Oh," I say.

"You haven't taken your aptitude test yet, I see. So you won't be used to this. Well then, you'll just have a little more experience than your peers."

I lean over to see what she's doing. From what I can tell, she's setting something up on the computer, but it's none of the programs I'm familiar with from school. It figures. Next, she prepares a peculiar device: part of it holds a chamber filled with an orangey liquid, and a long needle protrudes from the other side. I ascertain that this needle will be used to inject the fluid into me, but that isn't so bothersome. I've never been too sensitive for physical pain; it all just gets mixed in with what I'm used to.

"When I heard about your case, I was very much intrigued," Jeanine says, looking at me again. "I tried to think of what would be the most appropriate course of action. Naturally, we aren't strangers to mental disturbances here, but in a normal situation the protocol would be to such a person to the Amity for counseling and then they'd go back home, good as new. But you... your case is very unusual. Not only were you born and raised in Amity, but you've already seen counselors, your parents tell me. And still, no improvement."

For some reason, I feel like I'm supposed to apologize. "Did I not try hard enough?" I wonder aloud.

"We suspect somewhat that what you're experiencing may be a reemergence of what we call 'old world diseases.' Do you understand?"

"Old world? As in... before the war? Before the factions?"

"Yes." Jeanine gives me a little nod of recognition before she goes back to working on the computer. "Records exist of common afflictions during that time, and you're showing signs of what would be referred to as a dysthymic disorder. Do those words mean anything to you? No, I suppose not. They're not exactly in common use, even among those specializing in mental health. Dysthymia refers to long-term depression that is moderate in severity. Depression, of course, is an illness characterized by recurrent feelings of sadness and an inability to draw joy from any aspect of life."

From what I can grasp, what Jeanine is talking about surely describes me, but it's so much information so quickly. Is this what it's like to be in Erudite? Constantly bombarded with facts and figures you're expected to rapidly internalize? Perhaps for some people it's fulfilling, but it just makes me feel tired, and kind of tense. "Um," I say.

"This is a variation on a serum that we produced for the Dauntless. They use it during their initiation, though I can't give too many details away." She smiles. "It works by stimulating the areas of your brain that I want to study. You will experience a simulation of sorts; the neurotransmitters in the serum will convert this to binary, which is then sent to the computer. The software here will interpret the code and translate it to graphical output."

In Amity, if anyone talked this way, it'd be perceived as showing off – not a kind way to treat others. But I suspect this is just an ordinary way of speaking among the Erudite, and particularly its leader. "I'm sorry," I say. "I don't really understand all that."

"It just means that you'll be in a simulation and I'll be able to see what you're experiencing."

"You'll see inside my mind?"

"Yes."

The thought makes me slightly uncomfortable, but I don't protest. On the one hand I feel too weary to put up any kind of fight, but I must admit I'm also curious. "Alright," I say. "I guess that's fine."

Jeanine pushes my hair away and then touches the tip of the needle to it. "I'll count to three, OK? One... two... three."

There is a small flash of pain, and then a dark cloud settles over my vision.

* * *

><p>I find myself back in the Amity compound, all alone, walking barefoot down one of the dirt roads. It's a very sunny day without a single cloud in the sky. The plants look healthier than ever; the flowers are vivid, and the trees are full of fruit. I take in a deep breath, and the air smells sweet. A big smile spreads across my face. "I'm so happy," I say out loud.<p>

I continue walking until I feel myself step into something wet. I look down to see a puddle – but from where? It isn't raining. As soon as I make contact with the water, the puddle seems to expand, and soon I'm up to my ankles in a pond. The water is murky and gray, and it feels heavy, almost like quicksand. I try to step away from the water, but it's flowing over everything now, covering the flowers so only their tips show. I want to get to higher ground, but I'm moving in slow-motion. The next thing I know, all the land around me has been swallowed by the water, and I'm floating in an ocean.

"Help!" I yell. But there is no one around to hear me. The water gets deeper and deeper, until it's up to my neck and I'm partially afloat. I look everywhere for something – anything – to grab onto, but there is nothing. The world surrounding me is nothing but water below and sky above.

In an instant, the ocean changes from still to violent, and waves crash around me. They start off small, but soon grow larger and larger, and I'm forced to paddle hard to keep my head from being submerged. I turn to see a huge tide coming toward me, but I can't swim out of the way fast enough. I feel the force of the water push me below, and I begin to sink. I look upward, but I can no longer see where the ocean ends and the sky begins. I do not know where the air is.

I start to propel myself upward, knowing that I must reach the surface if I am to survive. But I do not have enough strength. I scream under the water, and I feel the liquid enter my mouth and fill my lungs. I drown. I die.

* * *

><p>I wake up coughing. Almost straight away, I realize that I have just been roused from the simulation, and I try to catch my breath. I lean forward in the chair, holding my head in my hands. I feel like I've just been hit with a truck.<p>

"That was interesting," Jeanine says.

"God. I feel awful," I groan.

Jeanine hands me a small glass with a blue fluid in it. "Drink this, it should help with your head a bit."

I take the glass and sniff it; no smell whatsoever. Nor is there any taste as I pour it down my throat. Within less than a minute, I feel the tension in my brain starting to subside. "Thanks," I tell her. I still feel exhausted, though.

"The aptitude test will be a lot easier on your mind than that. It's a predetermined landscape, for one, and there's no pictorial interchange on the part of the neurotransmitters, so the process should be quite effortless for you."

"I don't really understand much of this, though. I mean... how was this useful to you?"

"It was a learning experience," Jeanine says. "Opportunities to gain more knowledge are what drive the Erudite." She gives me a somewhat condescending look; apparently she thinks I ought to have realized this on my own.

"Oh," I mumble. "Of course. Sorry."

"Anyhow, shall we talk about your results? I noticed some activity in the hippocampus that we don't often see. Yours is smaller than what would be expected, which could easily be playing a role in your disturbance. I also observed that your brain is producing a far lower level of monoamines than the standard."

I stare at Jeanine and nod slowly, sort of understanding but not really. "So there's something wrong with my brain? It's a physical problem?"

"Yes. Rather complex."

I rub my eyes. "So what happens now?"

"Well, experimental surgery would be tempting, but..." Jeanine clears her throat. "I think it's probably best to avoid that. It seems to me that we should supplement the monoamines you're lacking." She types on the computer for a moment, and then a printout emerges. I get a look at it, but it's just a series of numbers. "We should have these in the chemical bank. I don't imagine it's reasonable for you to come here for serum injections on a regular basis, though."

I can't help but shudder. Come to the Erudite compound every day to get shots? Maybe I should transfer here just to expedite the process. Ugh. Even as a joke, the thought of the Choosing Ceremony and having to select a faction is discomforting.

"I suppose the oral route should suffice," Jeanine says. Then she's patting me on the shoulder. "Get up, please, and follow me."

I heed the instruction, pushing myself out of the chair and walking after Jeanine as she takes me back into the hallway and then into another room. This one is strange, unlike anything I've ever seen before: there is a large machine in the center, with many tubes extending from it. On the walls are a huge number of compartments, many of which also have tubes connected to them. I don't bother to ask what any of it is.

Holding the printout, Jeanine walks to a computer terminal attached to the machine and starts typing; I infer that she is inputting the information from the paper to the computer. She pushes a final button, and after that the machine is awakened. The tubes begin moving, and the sight is somehow both unnerving and fascinating. After a few minutes, the tubes stop, and the machine makes a hissing sound, and Jeanine trots over to the other end, where she retrieves something, and then hands it to me.

In my palms there is now a plastic blue disc with the symbolic Erudite eye on it. I pop the disc open and inside are a number of small white tablets. I look up at Jeanine. "These are...?"

"To replenish your monoamine supply," she answers. "Take one a day. When you run out, return here and we'll record your progress."

"What will they do?"

"Ease the symptoms of your depression, obviously."

"Oh. Right. It's just hard for me to imagine."

Jeanine gives me a look as if I'm something mildly unpleasant, like a stain on the wall that you can't get clean. "There is nothing to imagine," she says flatly. "It is a matter of knowing, comprehending. It is science."

I move my gaze to the floor, wounded. "Yes, sure," I stammer.

We walk back to the reception room, where my parents still sit. I thought they were supposed to come in and join me? I guess plans changed. "Hello," Jeanine says. "You must be Ann's mother and father." She doesn't wait for them to say anything. "Yes, well, I performed the appropriate diagnostic procedures on your daughter and have given her a developmental treatment."

"Thank you," my mother says. "We know you must be very busy."

"I am. But I thought this was an interesting case. It's part of a larger project I'm working on, and though I can't discuss the particulars, suffice to say that this has provided me some valuable research." She pulls off her glasses and cleans one of the lenses with a handkerchief. "In any case, I have confidence that the remedy I've prescribed will be effective, but please have Ann return after she's finished her supply of medication."

"Of course," my father replies. "No problem."

"Well then," Jeanine says. "Everything seems to be taken care of. Goodbye." And she walks away, back into the door where we just came out of.

"Strange woman," my mother mutters.

* * *

><p>My parents have to work the rest of the day, but they don't oblige me to do anything. I guess they figured that going to the appointment was enough to ask of me for one day. Instead I decide to do what I often do; walk around the compound.<p>

I start heading down the road. In a way it's sort of like the hallucination I went through in the office today, but I know that here in real life, there is no foreboding ocean waiting to appear from nowhere and swallow me up. There is only me and the world around me: the trees that bear fruit to nourish my body; the fragrant air that fills my lungs; the fields that seem to extend into eternity. I want to believe that all of this exists for the sake of kindness, for Amity, because life can be kind, perhaps.

As I walk, I come to a large oak and decide to rest for a while. I sit down at the base of the tree and let the shade wash over my face. _The world is sweet, and it is full of beauty, and all the good in my fellow humans sustains me._

There's a rustling sound above, and I look up to see what it might be. A squirrel, perhaps, foraging for acorns? A bird returning to its nest to feed the young therein? No – it is a human being up there, as I watch a leg hang down from a branch, followed by another one. Then the person lowers her head as well, and I see it's someone I recognize; it's Chloe. look back up at her and wave. "Hi," I say.

She glances down. "Ann?"

"Yes, it's me."

Chloe drops from the branches and brushes her knees off. "Gosh. What is it with us and meeting at trees?" She chuckles and then sits down next to me. "How are you?"

I look at Chloe, and I can't help but think of her brother, the boy who voluntarily chose to join the factionless. I can't imagine why, and I'll probably never find out. But what I do know is that Chloe has suffered a loss. It is far worse than her brother simply transferring to another faction; he is not only missing, but _gone._ She will likely never see him again. Yet, here she is smiling, laughing, climbing trees. She has kept the essence of Amity in her heart. And finally, for once, I feel like I may be able to do the same thing.

I smile at Chloe. "I'm good," I say. "I'm doing good."


End file.
